


Dogs of War

by SelkieHal



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Animal Death, Caesar's Legion, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Legion-Aligned Courier, NCR | New California Republic, No Romance, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Other, POV Animal, Slavery, good dog, i name all my titles after songs bc im not that creative, summary sucks, they show up a few times, to add as it goes along I guess, uh basic tags for legion stuff i guess, wastewolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 11:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20308858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelkieHal/pseuds/SelkieHal
Summary: The Legion comes into possession of a wastewolf pup and raise it along side their mongrels. Orcus, nursed by Lupa and raised by Anthony, wonders about his place in the world and what the Legion is compared to what he knows.(Multi POV. Orcus never really speaks but he's smart. Orcus, Shilo and Varius are OCs. Some others may show up.)





	Dogs of War

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of beta'd. Should be free of most spelling and grammar mistakes.

_ In the beginning there is a great violence,  _

_ strong contractions and a force pushing you from the warmth of the womb into a stark, new world. _

_ New sensations and scents, _

_ when your senses unseal there are many sounds and sights that  _ ** _blind_ ** _ you.  _

_ It is no wonder infants cry.  _

Heat rises off of the Arizona cliffs in a dream-like manner; deadly rays bleaching all they touch to a pale husk. No creature dared venture out during the midday's scorching hours less they find themselves burnt and irradiated as if torn apart by a whole new bomb. In pre-war times the Arizona heat was boiling, now in the post-war wasteland it was nothing short of horrific. 

Yet safe in a deep underground den, a tiny family rested in the cool dirt. They were small not in size but in members; merely a mother and her single pup left. In a time there was a father but like many beasts in the wasteland, he was shot while hunting for prey for his budding family. For the mother she had only produced one, rather large, child. 

They were wastewolves; a rare but dangerous force in the Four State Commonwealth. Missing much of their fur, what they did have was shaggy and thick and oddly soft for it's rough look. Their teeth and gums were exposed, what little lip they had was enough to get facial expressions and the correct body language across. If a pre-war gray wolf was to meet one of these monstrous looking beasts, then it would communicate with it the same as any packmate. 

One could not call this mother a monster however. As she lay in the cool earth of her den and waited out the scorching sun, she watched her pup with all the warmth of any mother. He was a large pup, much larger than any she'd seen. He was not very old-- merely whelped a few days ago --just simply born big. For her second litter she decided she had done very well for herself. Just a single pup, but he was healthy, that was all she wanted. 

He was born the same dark brown as any pup, his body covered in a fine layer of fluff that would shed out as his tufts grew long and wiry. His gums not yet exposed and his claws still soft and pink; he didn't make for a deadly predator. Not yet. His mother agreed. He'd have time to open his ears and eyes and explore the world for himself soon enough. 

As time wore on, she could feel the shadows lengthen above. The gamma rays faded as the sun sunk towards the horizon and the earth cooled to a reasonable temperature. Ears perked as many sounds drifted through the den opening; of javelina snuffling for afternoon feed, herds of mustangs coming down from secret canyons to find water, caravans of humans setting off for some distant territory. Why did humans travel so far? How large of a territory did they need? Or had they simply not found a place to call home yet? The mother did not know nor did she settled on these thoughts for long.

If anything she was a creature of practicality. She thought of where to hunt, to find water and shelter; not of why she was here or what grand purpose was set for her. She was a she-wolf, a mother wastewolf with a family to protect and provide for. Her goals were short term and her thoughts were direct. She could not waste time on wanderlust or philosophy like some canines. For now: her purpose was to drink. Nursing a pup in this kind of weather took a lot of water. 

She set off at a loping pace. She knew where to go: sheltered under trees the pond was safe from sunlight radiation, but that made it a popular spot for many animals. For as powerful as a wastewolf was, she was alone; without a pack hunting was hard. She was no match for a well equipped human or vicious razorback; large and very dangerous boars that not even her pack tangled with at its peak of ten members. Were one of those there she'd simple have to wait for it to go. 

On her way she passed a scorched rabbit that had been caught in the midday burning. Though hunger pulled her, a wary sniff revealed a certain sickness coming from it's dry corpse. She did not understand radiation as a human did, but even she knew it was bad. It made a wolf sick in the head and the gut; their fur falling out and mind going dizzy as if struck by _ foaming mouth. _ She dared not try a bite.

Hunger could wait. 

The mother took look out on a small hill, resting in the husk of a broken down car as she surveyed the land. Thin, black fur grew around her eyes, giving her a sort of sunglasses effect, allowing her to see in even the brightest light. The mystical shimmers of heat bouncing off cracked pavement was nothing to her critical gold eyes. In the distance she saw them-- the red backed humans. They all dressed alike, carrying sharp weapons and travelling in packs. They carried the symbol of a gold bull, one she often saw in the settlements she passed. They were like scent marks in visual form; whoever the leaders of this large pack was, they owned this land. 

Were they headed in her direction?  _ Maybe. _ She would not be here for long and humans did not travel quickly. They travelled much farther than any animal she knew, but by the time they arrived the she-wolf would be long gone back to her cool, dark den. 

Her long claws clicked against the baked earth, a steady rhythm that filled her ears as she continued on. At last the scent of clean water and creaking of ancient branches drifted towards her. The pond was occupied-- by javelina. Oh, she was not afraid. The small, pig-like creatures may resemble their giant cousins, but as long as she didn't mess with them they would not test her. It was a pair of yearlings, siblings perhaps. They huddled together and watched her with dark brown eyes. Quills bushed out to make them seem twice their size, the javelina were cautious animals. She paid them no heed. 

As she drank however she began to feel a restlessness in the air. The creaking of branches rubbing against one another and the calling of a distant jay seemed to overshadow some quieter, dangerous sound. Even the javelina turned their fear elsewhere as moments wore on like hours. 

_ Panting. _

_ Quick moving pawsteps. _

_ The scent of dog and human mixed. _

_ The scent of metal and smoke of the red-cloaked humans.  _

**Mongrels! **

The word exploded in her head as chaos breached the sheltered pond. Four of them; large, shaggy beasts bayed their howls as they burst onto the scene. The javelina fled in a cloud of dust as she spun on her heel and tore down the hill. The mongrels snarled and chased after her. Why her?!  _ Chase the prey instead! _ She shouted before realizing she _ was the prey. _

She did not understand dogs. They were canines like her, the coyote and even the nightstalkers, but they did not act upon the same rules. If their alpha, their human, set the order to hunt something deadly like a razorback, they would do so without a second thought. It was maddening! It was irrational! No reasonable predator would risk injury like that!

And yet they continued on. She lead them over rocky cliff sides, her claws and thick pads giving her an advantage. She knew this topography, every bleached rock and unstable landing she could lose them on, and yet they came. At one time she sent them tumbling down the cliff, but they simple got back up at the bottom and followed her from below. Her ginger ears twitched at every bark and snarl, dark paws thrumming against the powery dirt as she ducked into the ruins of a settlement. Human scents were strong here, squatters and old bones lay among the tumbled buildings. Perhaps they would catch interest on those. 

They did! For a moment they were distracted by an elderly man who shouted at them and shooed them off. The mother disappeared into the thick brush that hid her den from sight. She lay, panting and overheated for a moment, senses on high. Were they gone at last? As she headed towards the inviting entrance of the earth--

A gunshot. 

The hunt was back on.

  
  
  
  


His hounds were doing well until that degenerate got in the way, but he was dealt with. Antony had put his dogs through many hunts and tests of their strength, but to see them go up against a wastewolf? Now that would be a show! 

But it was not just for the sake of sport, no! That would just be wasteful! The arenas were for shows. No, this was a test to see how his best dogs would work together to take down something of equal-- perhaps greater! --intelligence and strength. A wastewolf was, after all, the raw, wild version of a dog. 

He followed behind at a distance, closing in as the pack surrounded their target. Following behind him was a pair of recruits he often used to carry meat and hides back from the hunt. They were nothing more than pack brahmin really. Perhaps they could learn from the dogs. 

"Fang! Rust! Back up!" he commanded to two of the younger males who were getting cocky. It was easy to be brave in a group, but that was how a pack got taken down. One charges in and is killed, the rest scramble to attack and the teamwork falls apart. The four dogs circled around the growling she-wolf, one snapping at her heels only to get a nip to the ear in return. Antony signalled for his recruits to circle around the back and cut off her escape. 

It was strange that she'd chosen to come here to all places. The open field had plenty of underbrush and cholla cacti he stayed far away from, but still; any dog worth his teeth could navigate such land easily. Why here? Well, in either case, it was good for them! 

The master of the hounds kept his shotgun at the ready. You could never predict a cornered animal's actions. She could choose to cut through the pack and try and tear his throat out! Take out the group at its alpha! 

**Wastewolves are clever enough to do so.**

But she never got the chance. One moment she was snapping after Rust and the next Heeler was locked onto her meaty thigh. It hardly took a moment after that before both Fang and Victus sunk into her neck, one on either side-- just how Antony thought them. 

She went down in a flurry of shrieks and snarls. With a sharp whistle, the legionnaire called his dogs back before they could rip apart her pelt. One of the recruits sauntered up and nudged her with a boot. 

"There's an old saying that  _ a beheaded wolf can still bite." _ Antony commented, causing him to startle back. The man chuckled, voice raspy and quiet, at how easily these young men frightened. Boys really. They had yet to see true danger or battle. Arizona was an easy place; the Legion's stomping ground and current capital. There were few raiders or human danger to speak of. Now animal danger? That there was plenty of. But even the deadliest creature was nothing compared to any human enemy. 

The legionary knelt down before the wastewolf's body. A rough hand brushed against her fur as gently as if she were still alive. "A fine, beautiful creature," he murmured softly, "Thank you for this opportunity for my boys to show their strength." For he was grateful that he was able to hunt such a grand animal. He grew up in Denver, Dog Town, where huge packs of wild dogs roamed and conquered the city. Respect towards any creature came naturally when raised in such an environment. 

The she-wolf was in fine condition too, a good weight and soft fur. She'd hunted well before being hunted herself. His eyes were drawn to her underbelly.  _ Could it be? _

"Antony! There's a den here," the older of the recruits called. The man joined him at the dark void that was the entrance. "You think there's pack members down there?" 

"Probably not." he replied, kneeling down to peer inside. The inky blackness made it hard to see anything, but based on what he could not hear.... Antony poked the barrel of his gun down into it, much to the discomfort of the other legionaries. If they were afraid he'd get his arm bitten off they were surely mistaken. There was no room in the tunnel for a wolf and his shotgun. Despite his incessant prodding however, it was silent. 

Still, he couldn’t shake the thought that....

"Watch my back." was all the warning they got before he army-crawled his way into the hole. It wasn't as deep as he expected, most of him from the waist down still being above ground at least. The tight, damp space was no bother to the eccentric man despite the fact he'd have a hard time getting back out. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Meanwhile his nose was twitching with strong scents; old bones, soiled bedding, a general canine odour.... but there was something...  _ softer _ underneath it all. 

Gambling was illegal outside of the arenas in the Legion, but Antony took one and reached out an arm into the darkness-- and touched something soft. It whimpered. "Oh, she did..." he sighed, sorrow leaking into his rough voice. Antony was a hunter as well as a hound master, he had a respect for the delicate, mutated balance of life in the wastelands. If he could, he'd rather avoid disrupting it by killing mature females and young. 

Scruffing the fluffy creature, he shimmied his way back out and dusted the dirt from himself. He held the pup up to the light, probably the first taste of sunlight it's ever gotten in it's short life. 

"She had pups?" the younger legionnaire asked. 

"Just the one," he replied. 

It was a rather large puppy actually, even for a wastewolf. It had a lot more fur than the adults, that was for sure. He held it more securely in two hands, weighing it as he looked it over. It's eyes and ears were still sealed, so it couldn't be more than a week or few old. 

"Why is it so big?" the other recruit questioned from where he was skinning the mother. 

"It absorbed it's siblings," he explained, "while in the womb it devoured them all into itself, creating just one big pup." A conquerer of its own special kind really. Antony flipped it over. 

His own kind. 

Well, a pup worthy of the Legion in any case. "We'll take him back as a gift for Lord Caesar," Antony decided with a proud smirk. He'd never had the chance to raise such a wild breed from a young age-- assuming Caesar decided to keep him and not just cull him like his mother. That would be most unfortunate. But the god-king had his benevolent days, perhaps the recent conquering of the 86th tribe has put him in a good mood. 

The hound master tucked the chubby pup into his armour against his breast to keep him warm and safe for the journey. "Pack the meat up. Wolf doesn't taste too good, but the hounds would enjoy some strong flesh."

  
  
  


_ Where was he? In one moment he was in the warm safety in the den and next cast into a blinding light. Even with his sealed eyes the burning sunlight scorched him. There were many new scents, of creatures like him and ones that weren't. One of the stranger beasts held him close. He could smell it's musky, thick scent and hear the quick booming of its heart. The sound was loud against his closed ears, shaking his chest as he rest against its. Where was he? What was this? Where was mother and the milk?  _

  
  
  


It was, perhaps, by some luck of fate that he was able to to present this gift before Caesar so soon. The imperator was back in Arizona, on a sort of call to arms. A great failure had become them at Hoover Dam ending with the deaths of many good men and the execution of the Malpais Legate. A man who had co-founded their great empire could so easily be set on fire and cast down the Grand Canyon at the whim of their god-king. It was a clear message in any case: failure would not be tolerated. 

However as a result a new legate was to be crowned-- that was part of the reason why Caesar was here in the capital, Flagstaff. Antony had a good idea of who it'd be; that brute Lanius who'd shown both his might and military intelligence. He wasn't as intelligent as say, Vulpes Inculta, but he had a certain level of prowess that came from being a veteran of war. In any case, it mattered little to him. Masters of the Hounds were a rank all on their own, floating away from the main military structure that governed the Legion. 

The party entered the main hall just as a roar of cheers filled it. Caesar was on an elevated platform; to his left was Lanius and to his right Dead Sea, Alexus and Severus. The trio had been raised by Caesar and the previous Legate from a young age, in a sense they were like his sons.  _ Not that Caesar would ever father offspring, _ Antony thought with a rue smile. The older man had his harem, but when it came to children he insisted on fathering none. A blood heir could be a threat to his rule, or so he explained.

It appeared as though he'd finished some grand speech and the newly crowned Legatus Lanius would be the next second-in-command.  _ A glorious new beginning for many of us, _ he thought, touching a hand to the warm lump in his chestplate. He gestured for his duo to tend to their trophies while he waited for the crowd to disperse. Few lingered to congratulate the new Legate. It was not as though he was an unpopular man, just.... rather frightening to be around. That mask of Mars he wore did nothing to help his friendliness. 

"Antony, you're back from the hunt." Caesar greeted as he took a seat upon his throne. Antony glanced to his side where his robotic hound would usually lay. He was not there. _ Another casualty of the battle?  _ That was most unfortunate, but perhaps he could turn it to his fortune. 

"Indeed, my imperator." he replied, kneeling before him. "My hounds proved themselves in taking down a wastewolf! She fought hard but in the end we prevailed."

"That is impressive. I haven't seen many wastewolves left in Arizona since the grand hunt many years ago," he commented with nostalgia in his voice. He and Malpais had rode together on the Regalia Chariot powered by their most powerful equus. Did Caesar miss his former Legate despite killing him? Antony shook these thoughts away, it was not his place to question his leader. 

"We have the pelt, skull and meat ready, but I have another gift for you," he smiled mysteriously. 

"Oh?" Even the trio of decanus seemed interested as they turned towards the gathering. Antony brought forth the pup from his armour, holding him up by two hands as if offered a weapon-- in a way he was. "Ah... now that is a gift." Caesar let a rare smile show as he took the chubby creature from him. He held him up to the light, hands under his armpits as he studied him. 

Currently he wasn't much to look at; a chubby puppy covered in soft dark fur. He whimpered, dabbing his tongue out to taste the air. There were many strange scents here, of these odd creatures and blood and steel. The hands that held him were callous but seemed soft with age. A childish growl echoed as he trembled warily in his grasp.

Caesar chuckled at the pup's antics. "Rather large, isn't he?" he commented. That phrase was becoming an echo to Antony.

"Indeed. I believe he had absorbed his siblings in the womb, as there were no other pups." 

"Truly worthy of my Legion..." Yes, this pup would do very nicely. No one could say if it'd be a good replacement for Rex-- as if anything could replace that cyborg hound --but the potential this wolf had would be great indeed! "Give him to a nursing bitch, let him be raised among the other mongrels." Caesar ordered, handing him back to the houndmaster. 

Antony bowed his head in thanks and tucked the pup back into his shirt. "I've never raised a wolf before, this will be interesting." 

"Can a wastewolf be controlled like any mere dog however?" The thunderous voice of Lanius rumbled through the conversation. He turned to him, resisting the urge to scoff. 

"Any canine can be taught to obey it's master, be it dogs, wolf or even a nightstalker!" he shot back, allowing his pride to show. A canine was a canine, no matter it's biology they all obeyed. Perhaps a wolf would take more patience and time, but Antony could do it. 

"So you say," Lanius replied, "What will you name it?" The pair turned to Caesar. 

The imperator sighed, a hand coming to hold his chin. He glanced at his adopted sons. Now nobody said Caesar was great at naming... anything really. He was a philosopher but not much of a poet. After all, he had named a child found on the shores of the Dead Sea,  _ Dead Sea. _ Mars knows what he would have named his brothers had Malpais not stepped in and named them himself. 

"Might I suggest Orcus?" a new voice as sleek as a snake chipped in, "after the god of the underworld."

_ Where did he come from?  _ Despite his paleness, Vulpes Inculta seemed to slip from the shadows as if he were made of them. Fitting for a top spy of Caesar. Alexus, Severus and Dead Sea seemed uncomfortable in the unscrupulous man's presence. Of course Lanius showed nothing however. Antony wasn't sure what to think of the man; he preferred to fight up front with much noise and emotion. The sneaky assassinations the frumentarius did seemed alien to him. 

"Orcus... I like the sound of it," still, Caesar seemed to agree with the suggestion, "Perhaps he shall grow to fit such a grand name." 

"I will assure it so," Antony promised, passion setting his voice to a purr. The leader nodded for he knew it to be so. Antony had not displeased him yet after all. 

"Orcus, my Legion's own wastewolf." 


End file.
